


Marked

by wakingdream



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakingdream/pseuds/wakingdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a means to an end - this he knows but the moment his eyes meet hers (she has a firm gaze touched by storm and thunder) he begins to feel a slow burning in his blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the old cliche prompt: five things he notices about her. That sort of thing. The different things he notices is open for interpretation although there are specifics. Sorry about the shittiness of it..I haven’t written for some time and I’ve been reading a lot of amazing fanfiction out there about these two and well…got inspired. I based it off my own Lavellan - Illythia who is a storm mage and fittingly has violet eyes. Hopefully it makes sense.

She is a means to an end - this he knows but the moment his eyes meet hers _(she has a firm gaze touched by storm and thunder)_ he begins to feel a slow burning in his blood.

 _Perhaps in another lifetime, she knew me, kindred spirits so to speak._ Solas thinks or rather, lies to himself. Anything to confront the reality that he knows in the end, their fates are entwined together.

_(she has his mark after all)_

—

"Halam sahrin. This ends now." Illythia barks upon entering the room.

At this, everyone gathered at the war table stops their bickering and stands to attention. She stands tall and defiant - every bit the worshipped Herald of Andraste - ready to command, ready to face the dangers ahead, ready to seal the breach.

But when she turns to face him - “Solas, will you command the mages?” - and he meets her stare, he begins to truly see a young overwhelmed woman who is forced the weight of the world on her shoulders. The weight is heavy on her. Her decisions have cost her. Her false bravado exhausts her.

"On your order, Herald."

—

_Bare your blade_

_And raise it high_

_Stand your ground_

_The dawn will come_

The swelling rise of the song both stuns and awes him and he is ashamed. Ashamed for judging her for the marks she proudly bore. Ashamed for disregarding her. Ashamed for foolishly thinking she was another of those unworthy shadows that called themselves elvehn who claimed to know everything but knew nothing.

The humans, dwarves and even the elves sing to her and they bare their hearts for all to see…for her.

Perhaps handing his orb over to that corrupted magister wasn’t so bad after all if it meant that these people could hold her - an elf - in such high regard.

—

By sharp contrast, Illythia is charmingly expressive. One nose scrunch means she is either concerned or disgusted. An eyebrow raise and a snort of laughter usually conveys amusement at the antics of her companions _(Cole’s gentle child-like wonder, Iron Bull’s insatiable dragonlust, Dorian’s suave, Sera’s poorly timed blunt truth, Cassandra’s hidden tenderness, Varric’s stories of Hawke and even Blackwall’s doom and gloom)_ and a wide smile means she feels light and warm - all at once. He has taken to mentally remembering every single aspect of her, her bluntly cut dark curls, her violet eyes, her spirit.

In even sharper similarities, he notes her streak of defiance - in which he another addition of his hypocrisy - tries to gently admonish her for the frequency of her visits to his tower. _(she’s awfully distracting with her bright light and her warm eagerness)_

"Shouldn’t you be plotting Corypheus’ death?"

"Shouldn’t you be researching?" She shoots back, basking in her snark - and just for a second he could have sworn she looked like a rather pleased cat, curled up on the small couch, watching him paint his frescoes.

"Touche, ma vhenan.”

—

_"I want you to know, what we had was real."_

She is a means to an end…that aspect is..was…true. But she has changed everything. She has become so much more. The Herald of Andraste. The Inquisitor.

Their victory over the arrogant magister has sent every empire, every kingdom, every city on Thedas flocking to her. He has seen her, and he foresees the woman she will become. A woman more worthy than all the gods combined - including him - he thinks, no believes.

His blood still burns at the thought of her and his dreams are full of mere memories of her.

_"She is barefaced, embarassed…"_

So he crushed her heart and his, for this, what he must do, his destiny - he must do alone. It is better for her to hate him and move on, for she holds in her hand another key to what he must do. And he cannot allow the sheer fact that he is terribly lonely, distract her from the choice she must make.

_Perhaps in another lifetime, we will dream together in the Fade and dance before the stars, once more._


End file.
